


Just Don't Call me a Freak

by Lidsworth



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: "freaks", Betrayal, Humor, M/M, Romance, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1594367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidsworth/pseuds/Lidsworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an attempt on Asami's life exposes Takaba's true nature, the Yakuza realizes that his “kitten” isn't exactly human. Rather an experiment that escaped the lab seven years ago.  With the truth brought to the surface, will Asami see past the “freak” side of Takaba, or will he turn his back on him like everyone else?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I finally found my Resident Evil 4 game yesterday, and my sister and I came up with this plot years ago. This is my first “sci-fi” fic, so bare with me please. And for the record, we came up with the plot before Frozen came out. Kudos to Jack Frost and Haku from Naruto. Please tell me what you think!

He could feel it clawing at his insides weeks ago, could feel the liquid nitrogen coursing through his veins like a blizzard. It would only be days now, days until his heart was frozen completely, and his virus returned to him stronger than ever.

To his utter dismay, the anti-virus was wearing off, and it was wearing off quickly.

His body temperature was already “warming” to the cooling temperature of Tokyo's winter, and twice this week Mitari had advised him to wear a jacket before he caught a cold.

In the midst of winter, he dressed like it was summer. At first, his friends had interpreted his bizarre wardrobe as a mistake, but when Takaba had insisted on wearing his tank-top, jeans and sandals, they began to think he'd gotten rather soft in the head.

He was running out of excuses. It was a miracle that he was able to keep Asami's vivid imagination at bay.

Though he figured that the older man was starting to catch onto some unexplainable phenomenon that had befallen the penthouse in the last month.

Frozen door knobs, snow flakes in the restroom, fogged windows, Asami was noticing them all.

Takaba was running out of excuses, and Asami was getting irritated.

_Just control it! You've controlled it all your life!_

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

A stampede of the elite class made their way into the large dinning hall. Colors ranging from gold and green, shiny and dull collided, as the large room filled like a school of exotic fish swimming through the murky ocean.

Perfumes and colognes battled one another for supreme dominance of smell, however, the end of the dispute saw no winner. Rather a nasty cloud of pungent odor had descended upon the gleaming zoo, making it hard for the “average Joe” to survive in such harsh climate.

The heat radiating from the extravagant, golden chandelier did nothing to ease to stuffiness in the hall, and many of the unfortunate “average Joes”, such as the waiters, waitresses and cooks searched frantically for the AC controls.

Akihito was one of these “average Joes”, and had found himself pulling on his cotton collar more than once to allow an easy draft to flutter into his clothes.

However, it was near impossible to find himself a comfortable position when he was occupying the job as a waiter. _How the hell do those people stand this heat!_ He thought to himself, as he fought to catch a breeze, _Maybe their brains are already fried. Guess that explains a lot about Asami._

With each person who passed him, they brought an unnecessary amount of heat with them.

He cringed as drunk men and women took more than they should have, and rude couples called him over with a snap, or a clap. He fought to contain his anger at their unnecessary gestures. Once or twice, he wanted to Frisbee his tray at the next idiot who snapped at him.

The heat radiated throughout the building again, and Takaba felt like was going to die.

Perhaps it was his virus trying to break free of his body, or the sky rocketing temperature that this room seemed to sport so well, but he was sweating far more than a normal person would.

And people were starting to notice.

 _Freeze yourself,_ the voice inside of his head suggested, _no one will even know._

He shook the voice off, and continued to hold his drinks.

His current assignment called for a complete disguise, and though he'd adorned his waiter outfit once before, he expected this job to be completed “Asami-free”.

However, this wasn't just some silly, rich people dinner party. This was a conference, a business conference.

Asami was a business man.

Luckily, Takaba had see Asami, _but_ the older man hadn't seen him. So he took careful planning in avoiding Asami's path.

_I don't need that bastard getting in my way! Not this time!_

The hall was large, decorated with dull pinks and reds. There were large windows that bordered the sides, hiding behind plush red curtains.

Standing elated before the numerous tables, was a large stage.

There was to be a spokesperson talking about something that Takaba didn't take the time to learn, he was, however, to abandon his post was a civil servant the moment the man began to speak, and begin taking photos on the downside.

This club was strictly photography free, so any indication of his presence resulted in his expulsion of the vicinity.

He looked around at the other waiters, and wondered how many of them were photographers, just waiting for the right moment to strike.

Just then, a cough in a microphone introduced a middle aged, red faced man, whose bald head reflected the bright chandelier light.

All attention turned towards the stage, and the lights in the hall dimmed slightly. At this, Takaba took this opportunity to place his tray in the hands of an unsuspecting waiter, and blend in with the growing shadows of the darkening room.

He brought a hand to his long-sleeved arm, and adjusted the hidden camera beneath the fabric.

In his rush, he hadn't realized that he had backed into the long buffet tables, nearly toppling one of the pots over.

The long felted table was covered with boiling dishes, beneath each, a dim fire burred. Severs dressed in dark clad stood behind the tables, fiddling with the food, and adding seasoning when necessary.

As the pot fell, the server reached his hand forward to grab it. His arm hovered above the stray flame

With the speed of a hawk, Takaba grabbed the man's arm before the fabric ignited, allowing the flame to catch his knuckles and burn them as it pleased.

With his minimal acrobatic skills, Takaba had used his free arm to catch the boiling pot before it fell to the red, pushed carpet.

The man looked with horror at Takaba's burning hand, only to have his fear replaced a tingling curiosity.

Takaba wasn't burning. The flame was frozen.

An increase in the presenters volume called Takaba to attention, and quickly, he placed the pot back onto the table, and withdrew his hand from the fire.

He held it to his face, and watched it freeze over, turn a palish blue, and fade back into it's fleshy color.

The man looked astounded.

The photographer breathed a sigh of relief. His camera was alright.

“Just..don't tell anyone,” Takaba warned silently, “and i'll make it snow for a day.”

 

The man raised a dark eyebrow at the offer, and his brown eyes reflected a bit of confusion.

“You can make it snow?” the young man whispered.

Takaba sighed. Had he not been exposed before, on numerous occasions, he would have been terrified, but this was nothing.

“Yeah, but I can also freeze your heart,” he replied with a fake scowl, “So seriously, don't tell anyone.”

A malicious look crossed the young man's pale face, and for a split second, Takaba swore his black hair turned a shade lighter, and his brown eyes ignited like that of a burning ember.

They man stared at Takaba, his eyes burning into the frozen soul.

“Don't worry,” he growled deep in his chest, and an unpleasant smile graced his suddenly reptilian features, “I'll keep to myself.”

A piercing symphony of clapping erupted from the tables, and the lights began to return to their normal

setting.

However, the scorching heat had disappeared completely, just like the mysterious man had made himself scarce at the climax of the applause. Takaba looked to the side, where the table was.

There were servers, food, and even the stray flame that he had just frozen, all of them were there!

But the man was gone!

Photography seeped to the depths of Takaba's mind, as he scanned the horizon of heads for the pale faced man.

The bald speaker was making his way off of the stage, feathering his head with a square cloth to absorb the sweat that had accumulated on his face.

People clapped for him once again, and he sheepishly smiled in order to show his thanks. An array of ties and high-heels made their way towards him, and fought for his time.

Takaba tore his gaze form the pathetic scene.

There were servers here and there, respectfully bowing and offering bystanders drinks and appetizers.

Couples of the elite class sat at the tables with one another, chatting and boasting. The ladies waved their hands like clipping crab claws, flashing their long red nails, and gossiping about their close minded society.

The men talked about business.

Still, no reptile.

Against his better judgment, Takaba cast a quick glance towards Asami's table. His tunnel vision had worked against him when he first caught site of Asami, alone.

Now his table was filled men and woman, an to Takaba's dismay, a very familiar Sudoh Shuu had taken a seat at the right side of Asami, and on the left, the beautiful actress Azumi, that Takaba had spotted the Yakuza with weeks before.

His heart froze, figuratively.

And then it melted as a painful fire filled his body.

He was suddenly stiff, his expression surprised, as if someone had frightened him. The fire erupted through his body, seeped into every bone, organ and cell, and ignited it.

His virus exploded with a frozen fury. Liquid nitrogen coursed through his burning veins, and with a painful “hiss” cooled the infected tissue it came into contact with.

His hair started to whiten at the tips, his lips started to lose their peachy color, and gain a ghostly blue one.

_No..no-_

The heat intensified within his body, and boiled his blood at soaring temperatures. He held his breath, as the fire clawed its way to his heart.

He couldn’t breath, that would be the end of him.

His balance was faltering, and his conscience was fading. He brought his shaky hands to his knees, and slowly began to freeze his insides to a frozen tundra.

_Just give in, why don't you!_

The voiceless whispered pierced into his head.

So he was being attacked.

He looked up from his near crouched position, and was thankful that he was far enough to blend in with the staff.

Asami was chatting with the bald headed man, the actress was leaning rather close to Asami, and Sudoh was glaring daggers at her.

Meanwhile, Takaba fought for his life, as unknown enemy sought to burn him from the inside out. He could defend himself, could end this agonizing pain.

But it meant flaring his ability. A gently frost would blanket everything, and everyone around him, including Asami.

This enemy was smart. He was trying to draw Takaba out into the open, to expose him for what he really was.

But his motives were unclear.

The fire exploded, and at the same time, the chandelier went dark, and the electricity zapped.

In the comfort of the dark, Akihito unleashed an angry frost. Cool air kissed whoever, or whatever it came into contact with, grazing the surface with a thin film of ice.

People screamed at the sudden discomfort, and a slight disarray broke out.

The only light source had been the burners heating the pots and pans on the table beside Takaba, but his rush to rid himself of the internal heat had extinguished their flames.

His head whipped around, and he searched the darkness for Asami.

The light flickered on suddenly.

The whisper chuckled in his head, at that moment Takaba had caught sight of Asami.

_You love Asami Ryouchi? I'm sure he doesn't know what you are._

“ _Don't you dare,”_ Takaba hissed, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling, _“hurt him!”_

 _And if I do? Ha! Don't worry, I’m not here to kill him! I'm just interested in you. But, that doesn't mean he's safe._ The humor in the voice subsided, and dropped to an all time low, _I'll give you a hint-_

“ _Just say it!”_

_Feisty, huh? They've made it easy._

“ _Made what easy?”_

 _Killing them, of course! What a wonderful idea it is too! They've gathered them in one place, and they'll kill them in one place! It'll be beautiful, Akihito! Red will stain the carpets, organs will plaster the floors,_ the voice dropped as the enthusiasm leaked out, _unless-_

“ _Unless I do something, you don't seem to happy about that. You sound sick anyway.”_

_Sick and proud._

“ _Are they trying to...expose me?”_

_Ha, they know nothing about you! They just want to rid the world of this political scum! It is up to you, whether you save this Asami or not! But you risk exposing yourself Akihito! Alas, you will remain as stubborn as you always have been, won't you? Until next time..._

“ _How do you know my name?!”_

The pressure in his head subsided as the voice died away. The heat cooled down, and it appeared that all had gone back to normal.

The steady heat of the lamp had melted Akihito's ice away, though the water still stained the surfaces around the hall.

The initial instinct to protect Asami had died down slightly. As far as Takaba could see, things had returned to normal, though people were still uncertain of the water that had mysteriously grown on their chairs.

Akihito kept his eye trained on Asami, who was still beside that beautiful actress, who Takaba recognized as that Azumi woman. Sudoh was beside Asami was well, slightly shaken from the recent events.

The bald man had detached from the crowd, and made his way back to the stage, quickly uttering a heartfelt apology to the guest in the hall.

Things were getting back to “normal”, though Takaba knew normality regarding his hectic life was always a short lived state.

Suddenly, a shuffle broke out in the bunch of tables. Security guards and bodyguards had their hands at their sides, ready to use their guns if necessary.

Takaba braced himself. Gun shots rang through the air as the shuffle turned into a distraction, and the real terrorist made their move. Akihito was surprised to see the entire table of black clad servants, jump into action, and remove their own concealed weapons from underneath their serving quarters.

“A buffet at a dinner hall?!” he thought to himself, realizing how stupid he had been.

The sudden attack had resulted in a wild stampede of individuals trying to escape. Gunfire was sounding off everywhere.

Akihito could barely see Asami through the crowd of frightened people.

The mental warning rang true in his head, and he immediately began to look for Asami in the crowd.

The gunfire erupted again, people screamed, and heads ducked as an school of bullets flew into the air, immediately missing their targets.

So people were fighting back? Secutiry fought to wrestle the weapons out of the enemy's hands.

At the sound of a deadly skirmish, the people stopped to look at the commotion. At their sudden halt, through the stillness of the guest, Takaba could spot Asami. _  
_He darted towards the older man, pushing past bystanders and servants. Gun fire sounded off once again, and the security that had contained the small group of gunmen previously, had been either killed or seriously injured.

Like a swarm of angry wasp, the dark, clothed servants sprung from their captors, and fanned out into all areas of the hall.

The doors were locked, and no one was getting out. He saw Asami, and he saw two of the gunmen.

Kirishima was occupied with another attacker.

The two prepared to spray the crowd of the wealthy with bullets.

They lifted their guns, and the same time, Takaba's hair turned a ghostly white, his lips a deathly blue, and his skin a haunting pale.

Takaba could see Sudoh cowering as the men moved closer to them, and the actress, Azumi had latched onto Asami's arm.

The older man turned his gaze towards her, and Takaba took the opportunity to shoot a beam of cold snow towards one of the gunmen, immediately knocking him off of his feet.

He slid in front of Asami and the others.

The remaining gunman looked at his partner on the ground, covered in thin crystals of ice. He looked towards Akihito, unsure of what to do next.

Screams and gunshots erupted around them, and the man was suddenly reminded of what he was there to accomplish.

He pulled the trigger, Takaba lifted his hand.

A wall of thick ice met smashed into ten metal bullets.

Takaba smiled; his ice was stronger.

The man shot again and again, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. He didn't care who he was shooting anymore, he just wanted this snowman gone.

But Akihito could defend himself more easily now, as the ice was coursing through his veins, whipping like tendrils around him, and around the people he was protecting.

He was in perfect control of his ability, perfect control of the situation.

And it felt so good, he felt so alive.

Bullets flew towards the side of his head, and the instant he turned his gaze towards them, his ice was there to protect him.

The doors were pried open as the Japanese police force, S.A.T, kicked them down. Smoke from the gunfire had filled the hall, and fog from Takaba's ice had made it hard for them to see.

The lights had been dimmed the instant the police had made their way into the hall, and their guns lit with thin lasers.

Through the smoke, he could see a red spot glow on his chest.

He backed up quickly, and bumped into Asami.

Quickly, he turned around.

He hadn't thought of an excuse for his sudden behavior, nor had he thought of what Asami's reaction would be to his ability.

But the older man's eyes said it all.

“Asami...”  
“Get away from him!” Azumi detached herself from Asami's arm, and shoved at Takaba's shoulder. He nearly fell back at the impact, and unfortunately for her, she caught a taste of the ice.

She retracted her hand, and nearly yelped as a thin sheet of frost came into contact with her exposed skin.

Asami's eyes narrowed at Akihito, and the photographer felt little under the harsh golden gaze.

People were clearing out, and the police force had reprimanded most of the shooters, though some of them had escaped at the first chance they got.

Takaba felt cool metal on the back of his head, as a gun was placed tightly against his skull.

“Kirishima,” Asami warned, “Lower your weapon.”  
“Y-yes boss,” he stuttered, not out of fear of his Asami, but out of confusion of the photographer. Now it was Takaba's chance to explain himself.

“Asami I-”  
“What are you?” the voice cut through him like a white hot knife, and his blood froze at the question.

Asami looked at him like he was some sort of disease, some sort of specimen that belonged locked away in a lab.

He _had_ been locked away in a lab!  
Those eyes narrowed dangerously, and Asami's chiseled features dared to break into a furious gaze. Something about that glare told Takaba that this was not Asami's first time seeing something like this.

But obviously, his encounters hadn't been that pleasant.

Takaba gulped, unsure of what to say, “I'm_”  
“A freak?” Asami supplied, monotonously.

Takaba stared at the older man in horror, and suddenly,. He hadn't expected Asami to react like this, hadn't expected him to call him a freak...that wasn't like Asami.

He hadn't expected him to suddenly accept him either, but the rejection was uncalled for.

“A-Asami...” he breathed in disbelief, “I'm s-still the same.”

Asami said nothing, and his gaze continued to dissect the photographer. Suddenly, things felt a little chillier.

They were all staring at him, all of them, and he hated it.

Takaba backed up, backed up pass Kirishima, and nearly toppled over overturned tables and chairs.

He kept his wide eyes on Asami, and nearly screamed when the man looked away, and ushered the actress to follow him.

If Asami felt ounce of regret, he certainly didn't show it.

The white in his hair was darkening, his lips were regaining their pinkish color, and his skin was turning fleshy once more.

But to them, he was still a monster.

The fog was clearing up now, and people were looking at him, pointing at him and recounting what they had seen to the police.

_He's a freak, did you see how he looked?  
That's a monster, we should just kill it!_

_Look at Actress Azumi's hands, they're chilled to the bone!  
_ A bullet grazed his cheek, and tore through the plump skin. He brought a hand to the injury, and gaped at the sight of bright, red crimson liquid.

Another shot went off, but Takaba had moved quickly in order to dodge it.

“Stay where you are,” the police instructed, “we'll take you in-”  
“But he didn't do anything wrong,” another had cut in.

Takaba was unsure of how the older man had so skillfully maneuvered his way through the dim light, an to Takaba's side. But what surprised him more was who the man standing beside him was.

“Sudoh...?”

The police officer cut them off, before they could converse.

“Step away from him,” the police shouted louder, his voice fierce and ferocious.

He raised his gun, but Sudoh was not deterred.

“If anything,” the model played carefully with his words, juggling the tone and diction, manipulating the officer's mind with his speech, “he saved us. So why should he be taken in?”

The lights flickered on, and an army of weapons had been trained on the two men. Takaba felt like he was suffocating. But Sudoh, aside from his jerkishness, was actually doing something right for a change. If an asshole like Sudoh could see something wrong here, Takaba was surprised that these other pompous bastards couldn't.

“I'll warn you again,” the police called, seemingly stone-set on killing them.

At the same time, Sudoh had turned towards Takaba, “Knock them over, or do something. If you don't, we''ll both die.”

 _Do something!?_ What did Sudoh want him to do? Attack the officers? They'd think he was more off a monster!

“B-but-”  
“Do something now!” Sudoh spat, his voice at a shrill.

Takaba gulped, and took a quick step back.

At his sudden movement, the guns were raised higher than they had been before, and even the officer who had tried to negotiate with the two looked at his whits end.

Takaba began to freeze over again, and Sudoh took a step back as well.

 _Just don't kill them,_ Sudoh's unspoken plea had wedged its way into Takaba's noggin, and he happily obliged.

“Get behind me,” Takaba warned, as the ice gathered in the center of his body.

The officers pulled their deadly triggers, but Takaba's ice was faster and stronger.

He let it explode from within in.

Screams of terror filled the hall as the entire police force was taken down with a strong gust of wind and ice.

The floors turned into a pale blue marble, the flames atop of the chandelier froze in their place, and icicles dropped down the ceiling.

Winter had hit the hall pretty hard.

Sudoh grabbed Takaba's wrist, and so skillfully, maneuvered his way atop of the thick ice. Figures, Sudoh was probably some low key ice skater.

They passed slipping officers, frozen tables, and terrified pedestrians.

The door was seconds away, and the closer they got to the outside air, the thinner the ice became.  
Both Takaba and Sudoh were running, and they were running fast.

“Where, are you taking me?” Takaba panted as he fought to keep up with the speeding model.

“Club Dracena, of course,” the manager chided.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Takaba blurted, as they burst out of the hall, and into the cool summer night.

For a while, Sudoh ran, and said nothing. Rather, mixed emotions crossed his face.

They ran through the beautiful garden that had adorned the building, past the large gate, and into the busy street of Tokyo.

When their muscles were aching, and their lungs were burning from their excessive running, both collapsed on a sidewalk bench.

“They'll be looking for us, huh,” Sudoh huffed, as he let his head all back.

“Yeah,” Takaba responded, “but I guess we could shake them off....”

His mind drifted back to the party. Asami had called him a freak, and by the seriousness in the man's voice, he could tell that the Yakuza meant it.

Takaba whined.

“What's that?” Sudoh looked towards him, and smiled, “Missing Asami, are we?”

Takaba blushed, and looked away from the manager, “Hell no! That bastard called me a freak! I don't need him!”

Takaba tried to laugh it off, but figured he was too busy trying not to cry.

Asami thought he was a freak...Asami thought he was a monster.

“Dammit,” he laughed, as tears began to roll down his cheeks.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for the wait! The document deleted itself, so I had to restart it. Thanks for your patience!

A light rain pelted on the high windows of the old warehouse. The large, dull lights hung above head the gloomy scene, and illuminated the tired workers slaving away beside ginormous rows of clothes. The large fan blades spun slower than an old snail, thus accumulating no air inside of the metal prison. On top of the rain, and the stagnant atmosphere, the entire warehouse felt warm, and sticky. So sticky, in fact, that the tall Russian, who happened to be one of the unfortunate souls folding, and picking out clothes from the large rows, had his golden, blond hair dripping with sweat.

He huffed as he ran a large hand through the wet coils, and placed stray strands behind his ears.

His phone buzzed endlessly in his pocket, sending an uncomfortable sensation through his leg. He desperately wanted to answer the call, or read the text, but he had not the time.

He needed to finish this first, complete his shift, and then he could answer the call. Just ten more minutes, and he'd be out of this humid prison.

His sweat dripped off of his beard, and unto the fabric below him. He sighed, and wiped his hairy chin. He needed to buy a new razor...

“Beep” He looked to the table across from him, where a Japanese man sat, playing with his phone rather than doing actual work.

“Beep”

Dmitri sighed, and looked back at his stack of pink sweaters, if he could just fol-

“Beep”

“Ryuisuke,” the Russian called to the man, whose glasses reflected the game he was playing, “Do you mind waiting till _after_ work to play? I mean, surely you must want to concentrate too, and get your best folding in! For goodness sakes, we have only...how long now? Five minutes?” 

Ryuisuke looked up at him, and the dim light caught the glass surface of his bifocals.

He shrugged, “I finished my job before you. So I want to play.”

Dmitri rolled his eyes, “Whatever-”   
“Have you checked your phone lately?”

Dmitri raised a blond eyebrow, “Hmm?”   
“Go on, our shift is over, check your phone.”

Dmitri nodded, suddenly aware of his friend's change in tone. Something was up.

“You'll be surprised by what you find.” Said Ryuisuke as Dmitri removed his phone from his pocket.

He flipped open the aged piece of metal, and was shocked by what he saw.

_The program has been rebooted. All Bio-Chemist need to return to their stations._

“Huh? Is this some mistake?” He looked back at Ryuisuke, “there's no way that-”

The phone buzzed again.

_Rouge experiment spotted in Shinjuku, Tokyo._

The phone buzzed again, this time, however, it was an incoming phone call. The ID read unknown.

Dmitri looked at Ryusike, who simply nodded.

Dmitri answered.

“Hel-”

“Doctor Arbatav! You're still alive? Good, that's good. We need you and Ronald-”

“Ryuisuke?”

“Yeah, whatever his name is, we need you to reboot the freak show-”   
“Who is this?” Dmitri asked, as the caller overwhelmed him with his demands.

“For Godsake's man, it's me, the General!”

The southern American accent, that reek with patriotism and pride boomed through the phone line, and Dmitri pulled his cellular device away from his ear as the man began to laugh.

“Ahh, I remember you! I do! But weren't you the Lieutenant then...I thought that-”   
“ I've gotten an upgrade since my father's passing. Things have changed, too many of your kind are being spotted, and too many of them are using their abilities. You need to exterminate them, permanently this time.”

Dmitri sighed. Over the years, he'd become very desensitized to killing his “own-kind”. They caused problems for the people, and Dmitri worked for the people, not the experiments.

“I understand, i'll see if I can get into contact with an assassin. Do you have a description of-”

“Of course we have a description! Did you not read the message I sent to you? I believe you're familiar with him...Takaba Akihito? Isn't he your godson? Controls ice, and can influence the weather. Apparently, he went berserk at some meeting, and went off freezing some famous Japanese actress...though the story is still foggy...so between you and me, i'll leave the “killing” part to you.”

“Meaning...” Dmitri drawled out.

“Meaning you can either quarantine him, or take him into the Facili-  
“The Facility was disband years ago, General. Your father ordered the Purge, reme-”  
“America wants it back up, like I said earlier, report to your stations. We have warehouses in Asia and Russia, you and Ronal-

“Ryuisuke.”

“and Ryuisuke shouldn't have trouble accessing those. Start rounding up the other experiments. If you see them as a threat, kill them, if not, recruit them. But it's up to you in the end. We can restart this entire program...” Finished the General.

Dmitri nodded, “I'll see what I can do.”

“Hmm” responded the General, and clicked off the line.

Dmitri scrolled through his contacts.

“What was that about?” asked Ryuiske, as he hopped off of the table, and walked towards his friend.

“We're back in business,” Replied the Russian, “They want us to restart the program.”

Ryuisuke's eye twitched, “So they can kill us again?”

Dmitri clicked the select button on his phone, as soon as he found his desired number, “This is the General's son we're talking about, not the General. Remember, he _likes_ us.”

“But still...”  
Dmitri silenced him with a raised hand. His phone line rang and rang, until the receiving caller picked up the phone.

For a second, there was silence. Then a gruff voice broke the stillness.

“Dmitri? Why are you call-”

“Listen Apostles, we need to make this quick. There's been an accident in Shinjuku with an experiment...Takaba Akihito...I think you know him. He's my godson, but if he's gone rouge, he needs to-”  
“He sounds familiar! Hey wait, I know him. I used to babysi-”  
“Stop with the cutting me off already! First you, and the General! Just listen, he needs to be exterminated ASAP, you're a tracker, so it shouldn't be too hard for you to get him. Do not let your emotions get in the way, according to speculations, this is not the same little boy you knew. He froze a woman.”

“Are you sure, Dmitri? Because people love to lie about the things we do, i'm sure-”  
“We're not taking chances, got that. We've been given a second chance. Do what you were made to do. Understand?”  
Apostles grunted, he'd figure this out later.

“Yeah, whatever,” mumbled Apostles.

“Good.” Responded Dmitri, and quickly, he cut off the line.

However, Dmitri still had his doubts about killing his godson...but he'd lost many to their abilities, Takaba was no different.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Despite the type of air Sudoh carried about him, he had no qualms about riding the public bus. Both he and Takaba caught the city transportation, and took a seat at the very back of the vehicle. Here and there, they would ride over a speed bump, and jump in place. But other than that, the bus ride was mostly smooth and calm. Akihito lay his head against the glass window, and had unintentionally cast a drape of frost over the surface.

Angrily, he used his sleeve to wipe the ice off. After that, he calmed himself, in order to look somewhat normal again.

The white glean that had powdered his hair melted into a darker, dirty blond shade. His white irises morphed into a pale bluish color, and his pale skin regained it's peachy, lively tint. He sighed a sigh of relief.

He was once again the normal Takaba Akihito, the Akihito that Asami liked. The Akihito that wasn't a monster.

He leaned his head back on the seat, and closed his eyes.

“Do you freeze things often?” Sudoh's voice broke into his self pity, and he found himself turning towards the model.

“No, not until recently,” he answered, not caring that he was giving classified information away to his arch-enemy, “I used to be “vaccinate” for it.”   
“Vaccinated?” Questioned the model, “are you sick?”

“In short, yeah, I’m sick, this” he admitted, as he made a small snow flake appear in the palm of his hands, “is a mutated strand of nitrogen, that was supposedly infused with a pathogen in some stagnate water in Germany” He spoke as if he memorized an incredibly, boring science book, “...that's what they tell me, at least.”

Sudoh leaned back against the seat with him.

“I know I already asked, but you didn't answer,” began the photographer“Why are you helping me?”

Sudoh smiled, “That's a good question, actually.” The older man paused, as if trying to pick the out right words to say next. “Why would I help the worthless boy that stole Asami-sama from-”

“News flash, idiot. He thinks I’m a freak, did you forget that?”

There was a pause, and for once, Sudoh was left speechless. Takaba took this opportunity of silence to turn back to the window, and stare at the cars, and people they bypassed on the road. There were children with their parents, men and women holding shopping bags, and businessmen carrying briefcases.

It was late, though in Shinjuku, everyone was out. For them, life went on. For Takaba, however, life was at a temporary standstill.

Sudoh cleared his throat, in attempt to gain Takaba's attention.

“What?”

Sudod sighed. “That's why I saved you. Unfortunately, I “hang” around freaks, they're my acquaintances , so it would be rude of me to just let you die.”

Takaba slowly turned towards the model. “W-what do you mean? There's more..I thought-”

“That's ignorant to assume there aren't,” replied Sudoh, smugly, “they all have the same sob story, I wanted to know if you could relate.”

Not entirely appreciative of the remark, he squinted his eyes, and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “Depends on what the story is.

Sudoh smiled, “Sick kids were infected with some weird virus by chance, or on purpose. They lived in a facility that tested on them. After a while, the sickness they were infected with became an unstoppable mutated virus. The program was shut down a few years ago though, apparently they purged the place? Some got out, some didn't. Ring a bell?”

Takaba had bitten his lip in the middle of the unsaid accusation, because everything Sudoh had hit home. Now he was in the danger zone. _That_ information was more classified than anything the photographer had exchanged with the model that night, partly because there was so much more attached to it.

 _He_ needed to play his cards right, because for all he knew, Sudoh could be working for the government, or any shitty organization that wanted to experiment him.

“I wouldn't remember,” he lied.

Sudoh nodded, and smiled, “I see. Oh, and Akihito, don't think this changes anything between us. I still hate you.”

The atmosphere grew chiller, and Takaba felt as if he was now treading on thin ice than before. Literally.

Sudoh stared at him in disgust.

“The only reason I’m helping you is because you're like the others I know,” spat the model, “so don't think I like you.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Takaba closed his eyes and leaned back again, “trust me.”

They continued to ride in silence, but it didn't last long. Takaba's curiosity began to peak.

“You say you know other experiments like me?”

Sudoh grunted.

“Okay, like who?”

“...you know him.”

“Okay, that doesn't tell me anything...”

“He's tall, has black hair, and pale skin.”

“Thank you Sudoh, for describing the majority of the male Japanese population. What's next, he has glasses?” Spoke Takaba, sarcastacailly.

Sudoh smirked, “Actually he does.”

Suddenly, the annoyance image of a very perverted Japanese club owner came to his mind. His eye twitched.

“Tell me it's not Sakezaki...”  
“Ha! Score on for you!” Cheered the model, though his jeers lacked even an ounce of enthusiasm, “but I wouldn't use it against him. He may really eat you.”   
“Experiments aren't cannibals...we don't eat each other.”

The bus stopped, and the two began to make their way off.

Takaba looked at the area. It wasn't far out from the city, and still well surrounded by buildings and cars. The traffic of cars and people had lessened slightly thought.

“This is Club Dracena.” Introduced Sudoh, as he pointed at the large building, “Are you impressed.”   
Takaba snorted, “By now, they all look the same to me.”

Sudoh glared at him, “Someone as ragedy as you wouldn't understand. But that's beside the point. I'll let you stay here for a while, and after that you can have a phone call or something, but come tomorrow you're out of my hair.”   
“Ha, and what about Asami, or the police. They're gonna ask why you helped me.”

Sudoh smirked, “I'll just tell them that you mind controlled me.”

There was a silence, a dead, irking silence. Takaba looked at Sudoh, how a teacher looked at the class clown.

“Are you serious?”

“They don't know what you can't and can do, so there's no alibi for you. So I suggest you scadadde by tomorrow, or else they'll really have your head. Oh, and since you've been to clubs so much that they all seem the same to you, you shouldn't have too much trouble getting yourself to the back unnoticed.”

He wanted to punch Sudoh in the face, and rip that arrogant smirk off of the models face!

He hated him more than he already had! This idiot had antagonized him for the longest time. He belittle him, insulted him and made him feel like shit!

And now Sudoh was going to make Takaba the bad guy? Not only that, but Asami would believe that Takaba had mind controlled him.

He felt a lump grow in his throat, and could feel the familiar sting burn in his eyes.

He wanted to kill Sudoh. He _could_ kill Sudoh. But he wasn't a monster, he wasn't a damn freak.

“Thanks,” he muttered, “But i'm not going to use your phone...thanks.”

What else could he say? Sudoh had won the game...that was that.

“Don't mention it,” cooed the older man, “I'll be sure to tell Asami...”  
He began to make his leave then, before he did something bad. He let the taunt die down in the wind, and and continued his stride into the city.

Maybe he should call his parents, as if now, he had nothing. Everything he owned was in Asami's Penthouse. Maybe he'd go and get it. Besides, his camera was still there..but first, he needed to get a phone, maybe call Kou or Takato...then he'd leave Japan. Or he could confront Sakezaki about the accusations.

Perhaps that's why the older man had valued him so much? And if so, what did this new exposure mean for Sakezaki?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

His things were being cremated. From his brilliant photos, to his tacky clothing, to his old, aging camera, Asami was having everything burned.

He stood above above the fire squad, as they purged anything, and everything that ever belonged to Takaba. The health department recommended it, as they weren't entirely sure what Takaba was, and though blood test cleared Asami of any potential pathogens, he had been advised to erase any contaminated objects.

Ironically, with every flame, and ember that crackled from the fire, Asami's uncertainty grew tremendously,

Akihito worked for what he had, and Asami was burning it behind his back....but the damn brat deserved it.

What was he? Was he trying to infect Asami, was he trying to kill him? Why had he lied to him?

Questions warmed the man's head.

But the root of his questions stemmed from betrayal, and negligence. Did Akihito not trust Asami? Were they not that close? Did Akihto not love him.

Asami shuddered at the thought. Love was such a troublesome word...a word he would rather not associate himself with.

Suddenly, his actions from just hours before edged their way back into his head. He had ridiculed Akihito, and the boy's face showed the heartbreak.

Perhaps Akihito was afraid of rejection? And Asami wondered, had the circumstance been different, would he have reacted the same way?

He honestly didn't know.

 

Azumi hadn't been hurt, not badly. She put up a fuss, yet they doctors found nothing but a thin coat of frost on her arm.

Frost. Takaba was like a snowman.

Darkness. Asami's brother a demon. Years ago, he'd seen what freaks like Takaba could do, what devastation they could bring onto people. His brother had taken hundreds of lives in less then a second, simply because he got angry...and he'd taken them with their own shadows.

Could Takaba do the same to Japan with snow?

Yes, he could. And Asami knew it.

But as the belongings once owned by the photographer melted into a dry ash below, Asami felt like was making a colossal mistake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors. Some of you didn't think Asami was in character, so the last bit I added was to hopefully atone for that. On a side not, I took my Alg. 2 final today :D   
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Next is responsibility! Anyway, have a nice week, and God bless!

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if they seemed OOC, especially Asami! But that will be explained later, and I know a lot of things didn't make sense! And for the "reptilian" guy, yeah, he'll be brought up slightly later.


End file.
